


Snowfall

by Heronfem



Series: Author's Favorites [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Discussions of sex work, M/M, Open Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snowstorm forces Cullen, Bull, and Dorian to confront the history they share. Together they find a new way forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowfall

The snowstorm that had descended on them wasn't honestly all that bad. Cullen watched from the window seat in their bedroom on the second floor as the snow fell, wrapped tightly in a blanket that his mother had made. It was a soft, pleasing sort of snow, with thick flakes and no real wind to be seen. Bull's massive black truck pulled into the driveway, and Cullen smiled as he watched his husband get out of the vehicle.

Bull was in their room shortly, and Cullen tipped his head up for a kiss. Bull obliged, and Cullen smiled into it, feeling his shoulders loosen.

“How was your day?” he asked as Bull slid his tie and dress shirt off, heading for the closet.

“It was a day,” Bull said, groaning as he stretched. “I really hate this weather.”

Cullen went back to watching out the window. “It won't be too bad,” he said absently, tightening his blanket. “At least, it doesn't look like it.” 

The snow fell, and fell, and fell, and Cullen was in the kitchen working on dinner when the house phone rang. Cullen was a stickler for having a permanent phone, and Bull had indulged him, admitting it was nice to have work only being able to contact him within set hours. He ignored the ringing, working on carefully slicing up the vegetables for a thick stew, and let Bull go to where it rested in the cradle. 

“Hello?”

A pause, and Cullen began dicing potatoes.

“Off the road? I- yes, I know you have a hard time with snow, but you've lived here for seven years,” Bull said, exasperated. “Where are you?”

Cullen paused, turning around. Bull was standing at the small shelf that held the phone and a pile of books, looking at the wall with an expression of fondness that only got leveled at one person. Cullen's stomach swooped uncomfortably, and he cleared his throat as jealousy burned in it. “Is that Dorian?”

Bull nodded, picking up a pen and paper and writing something out. “Yeah, I'll be there in a bit. Keep the windows cracked and the heat going, be careful.” He hung up and sighed, rubbing his head. “He's got that little piece of shit car. He went off the road about three miles from his house, I'm going to go take him home. Seven _fucking_ years and he still can't drive in snow.”

“I'll go with you,” Cullen said before he could think about it, and Bull paused, looking at him cautiously.

“You will?”

It was common knowledge that Cullen and Dorian were- well. They could be awkward around each other. Bull had been with Dorian when they met, and while their relationship had been open Dorian had found it wasn't actually something he was as comfortable with as he'd expected. Saying Bull had been shocked when Dorian bowed out and told him to be with Cullen instead of fighting for him was a massive understatement. They remained friends, but Dorian maintained his distance, quietly keeping out of sight as much as possible and only making strained conversation with Cullen at Satinalia parties or when they ran into each other at the grocery store.

The fact that Dorian hadn't so much as accepted an offer of a date in four years left Cullen feeling uncomfortably guilty.

They left, bundled against the elements, and Cullen looked out as the world passed beside them, covered in soft white.

“You miss him, don't you?” Cullen asked quietly, and saw Bull's hands tighten on the wheel. “It's all right, I'm not mad, I just... he's your friend, and he was practically your husband. It's fine if you miss him, I'd be surprised if you didn't.”

Bull was silent for a while before saying lowly, “You know how even though this relationship is open, I've never gone for anyone else?”

“Yes,” Cullen said, feeling the weight of the word in his chest. 

“That would be because I can't bring myself to do it, when I know he's out there. I love you, I love you beyond the words I have to express it, but. Shit.” Bull stared out into the snow, fixated. “It's like you're sharing me with the memory of him and I try not to think about it, for your sake.”

Cullen reached over, and Bull reached over as well to take his hand. His hand was shaking, and Cullen gently squeezed it.

“It's alright,” he said softly. “I'm not angry, I promise.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, the weight of the past sitting in the cab with them, and Cullen's pulse picked up as he caught sight of Dorian's battered little car by the side of the road. They parked, the hazards on, and climbed out. Dorian got out of the car, and Cullen's stomach bottomed out.

“You are not taking him home,” Cullen said quietly, looking over the rather threadbare coat and overworn shoes. “He's coming back with us, I don't care what he says.”

Dorian reached the top of the hill, and Cullen saw that his eyeliner, usually impeccably applied, had run a bit from the tears. Bull opened his arms, and Dorian planted his face in his chest, clinging to him. The tips of his ears were bright red, and Cullen pulled his scarf off, draping it over Dorian's neck.

“I'm so sorry,” Dorian said, his voice cracking as he started to shake. “I'm sorry, I- I should have just walked.”

“You would have frozen,” Cullen said, looking up at Bull. “Trust me, a few minutes out of our way is worth not getting frostbite.”

Bull looked tired and pained, but managed a smile as Dorian pulled back, flicking tears out of his eyes. “Come on,” he said quietly. “It's a Saturday night, you're coming home with us. I know you said your heater's gone out again, we're not doing that same old song and dance routine. We'll call someone to get the car in the morning.”

Dorian's lips quivered, and he nodded, looking down as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. “I just- I just have my briefcase,” he said quietly, and made to turn.

“I'll get it,” Cullen said firmly, heading down the hill. “Go warm up.”

Dorian's car was even more battered close up, and Cullen wondered what it must cost Dorian's pride to be seen in it. It had been hit several times, and as he brushed off the handle he noticed the remains of old scratches above it. In neat, keyed letters was the word “maleficar”. He froze, staring down at the words. Right above the handle, next to the keyhole, it ensured that Dorian would be forced to look at them every time he unlocked his car, too old to have a fob for distance. It was a deliberate, malicious act, and a bit of helpless rage washed through him. Dorian did not deserve this.

He opened the door, and winced at how bare the car was. The dashboard was cracked, the seats were threadbare, and there was nothing in it to suggest any sort of personal attachment. Probably for the best. He took Dorian's briefcase from the seat, closed and locked the doors, and returned to the road. 

Cullen climbed into his seat, buckled himself in, and handed Dorian his case. “I've got things that'll fit you,” he said quietly as they turned and headed for home. “And before you start worrying, you're not an imposition.”

Dorian's laugh was a short, broken little thing, but some of the tension eased. 

The drive back was short, and Bull helped Dorian inside. Cullen took his coat and shooed him up the stairs to the spare bedroom. Bull waited until he was out of earshot to murmur, “You seem upset.”

“Someone keyed his car over the handle,” Cullen said quietly, looking at the few holes in the coat. “It says “maleficar” on it now. What do you think that does to him, being forced to see that shit every day, given his history?”

Bull let out a frustrated, sad noise, and Cullen pulled him in for a hug. They stood together for a moment, breathing, and then Cullen pulled away.

“I'm going to go find him some clothes,” he said quietly, and Bull nodded, rubbing a hand over his head. Cullen reached up, gently stroking his cheek before stepping away and heading up the stairs to their bedroom. 

He knocked on the door to the spare bedroom once he'd gathered some things, and Dorian pulled it open. He looked a little more gaunt than he had in a few months past, when they'd last seen each other. There was a hollowness to his cheekbones that hadn't been there before. 

“May I come in?” he asked, and Dorian stepped aside. Cullen took the pile of things to the bed, setting them down and forcing himself to steady his breathing. “So, I take it the rest of your day didn't go well either.”

Dorian managed a short laugh. “You could say that.”

“What happened?” Cullen sat on the bed, and after a moment's hesitation, Dorian sat next to him.

“I had an interview that didn't go very well.”

“An interview?”

“For a job.” Dorian stared at his hands. “It's amazing, how few people will hire a 'Vint mage. I have another interview at another place on Monday, but. Well. They'll be far more concerned with my looks than whether or not I have any skill at transcription or was the first person to make Time magic work.”

“What do you mean, they'll be more concerned with your looks?”

Dorian smiled wryly, not looking at him. “I'd be entertainment, Cullen. I took a great many dance classes as a child, it would be a pity not to put them to good use. The pay is well enough, even if I do have to rent space, but it'll be enough to keep me with a roof over my head and enough to pay the bills.”

“Maker, Dorian,” Cullen breathed, shocked and honestly a little angry. “You have four Masters, you're technically a Senior Enchanter, can't you ask the Circles if they would be able to find you work?”

Dorian looked up, smiling at him like he was a particularly clueless puppy. “Cullen, I'm from Tevinter. Land of blood mages and abominations. The last time I spoke to the Grand Enchanter at Kinloch he told me that I'd do better going back home to my own kind. Explaining why I couldn't wasn't an option. I didn't want to be killed from the potential of being considered tainted.” He looked back at his hands. “At least the clubs here are legal, and maintained. If I were in Tevinter and I did this, I'd have no defense against an owner who wanted to take me to bed, or protection from clients. And honestly, I enjoy dance. I'm not going to be forced into bed. I can go of my own free will, and have you seen this face?” He gestured with a bright smile. "I'll be free of debt very quickly."

“Maker, you're too damn good about seeing the sunny side,” Cullen muttered, staring at the wall. "Four masters degrees. I want to punch Irving."

“It's fine,” Dorian said, giving him a slightly wry grin that faded quickly. “I'm not dead or dying. I still have my mind and my body.”

Cullen glowered at him. “You're gorgeous and we all know you'll make good money dancing, but you've got a brain that shouldn't be neglected because of bigotry. I'll talk to some people, because you ought to have a job where you can bury yourself in all the books you want and- I don't know, resurrect griffins and find the cure for the Blight or something. If anyone would, it's you. At least I could get you access to a lab or something." He shook his head, standing up. "Get changed and come down for dinner, you look like you're about ready to keel over on me.”

Dorian gave him a bit of a smile, seeming a little touched, and Cullen left, closing the door behind him.

Bull was in the kitchen, watching the stew simmer, and Cullen stopped in front of him.

“Did you know he was out of a job?”

“Nope.” Bull looked troubled. 

“He was at an interview today,” Cullen continued, starting to pace. “Apparently it didn't go well. Apparently, he's been to the Circles too. Apparently he has an interview on Monday at a club. As a dancer.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Cullen snapped, taking a spoon and testing the soup before making a face and going to fetch more spices. Lyrium deadened all the senses, but taste was the one that suffered the most. Bull was just happy that Cullen liked spicy things. “Maybe if I wasn't such an ass we could have helped him.”

“You're not an ass-”

“Shut up,” Cullen snapped, feeling the peevishness set in wholeheartedly. “I am and I'm aware of it. We never see him, and that's my fault. If I weren't so damn jealous, if I could just set aside my ego for a few minutes, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess or he'd be in less of a mess or at least we would have _known_. I know the work here is good, but this is clearly his last resort and I hate that.” He slammed the allspice on the counter, forcing himself to breathe as anger boiled up. Bull was wisely silent, letting him wrestle his anger back under control. Cullen carefully returned the allspice to the shelf and took out the red pepper, cayenne, and ginger. “We've never talked about this. This- history, this story that we all have together. We've never worked through that, and you've never really spoken with him about what happened, about you and I. You're friends with everyone and I understand that, but he's still your ex and you're still his ex and he left without even a word of complaint and you didn't even ask why.” Cullen braced his arms on the counter, bowing his head. “You can't honestly think that's not a sign of a man convinced he's not worth it.”

Bull's hand rested in the middle of his back, slowly rubbing up and down. 

“This isn't your fault,” he said quietly. “None of it.”

“It is when I'm jealous,” Cullen said, the fight gone out of him. “Because there's no damn reason for any jealousy.”

“I'm sorry,” Bull said softly.

“Don't be.” Cullen straightened up, brushing his hand off even as it lingered. “This is my problem.”

“It's _our_ problem,” Bull insisted. “Ours, to handle together. We'll work through this together.”

From the doorway, Dorian cleared his throat. He looked odd, out of the slacks and collared shirt and into Cullen's soft sweats and a t-shirt that was just big enough to make him look vulnerable and rumpled rather than drowned. For a brief moment, Cullen could clearly see why Bull was eternally soft when it came to Dorian. All the masks were gone, showing the fear and naked loneliness, and Cullen turned away before Dorian could see how it affected him.

“Dinner should be done in just a moment, I was just going to get out the garlic bread.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, and Bull fetched plates as Cullen went back to work.

Dinner was quiet, and Dorian ate almost as much as Bull did. Cullen didn't have terribly much of an appetite, but the knot in his chest eased as Dorian started to drift off at the table from the weight of the food. 

“Come on,” he said quietly, helping him up, and they went up the stairs together as Bull cleaned up. Dorian all but collapsed into bed, curling up under the blankets. He looked small and uncertain, and Cullen gently squeezed his shoulder before heading towards the door.

“Cullen?”

Cullen paused, turning back around. Dorian was staring at the wall, his eyes very bright.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You didn't need to do this but I'm grateful.”

Cullen thought of Bull, sitting at their wedding, smiling, his eye always searching the crowd for someone not there. He walked back in, sitting on the bed, and said hesitantly, “If you can talk about it, why didn't you ever push to keep him?”

Dorian was quiet for a moment and Cullen was just getting ready to stand when he said, “He wasn't mine to keep. He shouldn't be restricted by me and my issues. Anyone with eyes could see how quickly he fell in love with you. He talked about you constantly, always-” his voice cracked. “He was always so happy to find someone with shared life experience. I was a mage, a mage from a wealthy family, who'd never seen combat and had never gone through the things he had. I was terribly possessive and unable to give him the freedom he needed with relationships due to my own problems. Better to let him be happy with someone who could give him that than saddle him with myself for who knows how long.”

Cullen sat silent, shocked. 

Dorian laughed a little, the sound dry and pained. “And it became so _obvious_ once you married that the trouble was with me all along. Not once did he share your bed with someone else. Not once did he seek out others. Not once did he find anyone else worth seducing. Just you, for so many years. He was mine for three and I don't know how many times I wondered why I wasn't enough until you came along. He had flirted with others, he had teased others, he had asked me over and over and over if I was alright with this and I said yes. I thought I was. I thought he would be happier and then I would be happier. But then it was always about you. Cullen, Cullen, Cullen, ringing around the house like bells, and that was when I knew there was no point. He loved you better, and he deserved a better person than someone who would sit there always thinking they played second fiddle to another, even when it was my bed he came back to.”

“I'm so sorry,” Cullen whispered.

“Don't be. At least one of us deserves a happy ending.”

Dorian pointedly rolled over, putting his back to him, and Cullen took the hint to leave.

He closed the door quietly and went to their room, where Bull was tidying things up before bed.

“Bull, you have to talk to him.”

“Sure,” Bull said, looking up. “About what?”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, starting to pace. “This is tearing him up. You and I, I mean. He left because he didn't want to “saddle you” with him and weigh you down. Maker, Bull, you have to talk to him.”

Bull walked over to him, gently rubbing his arms. “Hey, it's okay. I'll talk to him in the morning, I promise.”

Cullen nodded, stepping into his arms and closing his eyes. He had grown to love the scent of Bull so much, the heavy musk and faint sandalwood, and pressed in tight to him. Bull's arms stayed tight around him, holding back the world for a moment as he found his footing again and let himself breathe.

“Let's go to bed.”

Cullen knew they slept, at some point, after a bit of lazy kissing because that was how their evenings went, and woke up at about seven AM to find the world white with snow and a yelling match going on downstairs.

He took a moment to stare at the ceiling, wondering if it were worth it to stand up and see, and decided he'd better.

The snow encircled the house as if it could gently smother the old hurt, the drifts almost covering the windows where the storm had grown worse overnight. Dorian and Bull were in the living room, Dorian dressed in the same clothes as the day before and Bull in the massive old house pants with their red and green stripes. Dorian's eyeliner was gone, and he looked oddly vulnerable with nothing on his face but fresh tears.

“What do you expect me to do?” Bull demanded, gesturing broadly between them. “For fucks sake, there was three years there that we spent together, you can't say I'm not invested in your happiness!”

“Let it _go_ ,” Dorian choked out, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Please, Bull, I've made my peace with this, you don't have to lie to me. I know I wasn't enough, it's- I've accepted this, we don't-”

“Apparently we do! Fuck, all this time, you've thought that I just, what? Didn't want you _enough_? Damn it, _kadan_ -”

“Don't you _dare_ call me that, that isn't for me!” Dorian's hands crackled with flames that immediately sputtered back out. “I'm not _kadan_ , he is, and I'm fine with that. I love you, I always have, but he loves you too and he's better for you.”

Cullen decided that was enough, and headed towards the kitchen. The shouting grew a little louder as he filled up a pitcher with water, and he hummed quietly as he shut the water off and lifted it up. Wandering his way back to the living room, he came in just in time for Bull to say, “If you'd just _listen_ to me-”

“Alright,” he said briskly, and both of their heads snapped to him. He gestured with the pitcher. “Which of you am I dumping this on first?”

Bull and Dorian both stared at him, and his smile was brittle. 

“That's what I thought. Go sit down and we'll talk like adults.”

Dorian silently took an armchair, Bull silently took the sofa, and Cullen put down the pitcher and sat down on the ottoman between them.

“First off,” Cullen said quietly, “you're just as much _kadan_ as I am, and you know it. I'm not at all mad about that, alright? We may occupy different parts of his life, but we've still both got that honorific to our names and you deserve it completely.”

Dorian nodded silently, blinking rapidly a few times before wiping away the leftover tears on his cheeks. Bull sat stiff, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out, and Dorian wrapped his arms around himself. The silence stretched, winding up the tension in the room like a coiled spring, and Cullen braced himself to mediate in the event of trouble. Finally, Bull let out a great heaving sigh and buried his face in his hands.

“It wasn't that I wanted more people in bed,” he said lowly. “It was never about that. Romantically, sexually, you were always fulfilling for me, and I like to think that I was pretty damn fulfilling for you too, but then you just- left. You left, and all I had left was Cullen. I didn't know what to do, where to go, and he was there while you distanced yourself and just- Fuck, Dorian, you want to know why I've never gone out and dated? You're why. Between the two of you, there's- that's what I would have needed.” He looked up, and Cullen's heart ached at the tear sliding down his cheek. “It was never the sex, never the romance. I just wanted that intimacy that we shared with someone else too. I don't want to be forbidden to have intimate relationships. I just wanted the freedom to find that for myself.”

“Why didn't you just say that?” Dorian whispered, fingers shaking as he wiped at his eyes.

“Because I didn't _know_ ,” Bull said desperately. “I didn't know that it was just intimacy that I wanted. Fuck, why the hell would I have wanted sex from someone else? I mean, like-” he gestured between them, smiling incredulously, and Dorian laughed a little, managing a smile. Cullen grinned wryly.

“We're pretending he hasn't said your name in bed a few times,” he admitted. Dorian gaped at him as Bull's cheeks flushed purple.

“Well.” Dorian looked almost proud, if shocked. Bull smiled at him, with helpless tenderness, and Dorian ducked his head, a shadow of a smile still on his lips.

“It took me a long time to figure this out,” Bull said, sitting forward on the sofa. “I mean it, Dorian, I just barely got this through my head a year ago. Didn't want the sex, didn't the flowers and seduction, just wanted- this. Being close, knowing the other person is just as close. It's taken me a long fucking time to get here. And I'm sorry I didn't have my head on right when we were together.”

For a brief, gut wrenching moment as Dorian looked up with that terrible tenderness in his eyes matching Bull's, Cullen thought, _This is how my marriage dies._

And then he smiled, and relaxed, and reached out for Dorian. Dorian blinked, and with a tentative smile reached out to take his hand. Cullen took Bull's as well, and felt something in him settle, like a joint clicking back into place.

“Better?” he asked Dorian, who laughed a little brokenly but was smiling still.

“Much, thank you.”

Some of the knot in his chest eased again, and Cullen said quietly, “I want what you have. What Bull has with you. Maybe we still have some time to put this back to how it should have been the first time. You, and me, and him. Or you and him, and me and him, and if you want- if you'd be willing, I'd- well. I'd like to see if we could make this work.”

Dorian was staring at him, jaw dropped, and Bull's eye had gone wide.

“I mean,” Cullen said as the silence stretched. “You don't have to, I just-”

“Yes,” Dorian said, his voice cracking. “Yes, absolutely, I want to try.”

Cullen stood up, motioning for Dorian to rise, and as soon as Dorian had he pulled him into a hug, letting Dorian press his face to his shoulder. Dorian's fingers curled into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, holding him just as tight, and Bull stood, wrapping the pair of them in his arms.

“Come on,” Cullen murmured into Dorian's head. “What do you say to a breakfast date?”

Dorian laughed into his shoulder, and if there were a few hot splashes of tears from the three of them, no one said anything.

Outside, the snow stopped falling.


End file.
